Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Vision by Khalil Gibran, The Vision by Khalil Gibran

Vision Khalil Gibran

Music:Richard Clayderman-Passion

There in the middle of the field, by the side of
a crystalline stream, I saw a bird-cage whose rods
and hinges were fashioned by an expert's hands.
In one corner lay a dead bird, and in another were
two basins -- one empty of water and the other
of seeds. I stood there reverently, as if the lifeless
bird and the murmur of the water were worthy of deep
silence and respect -- something worth of examination
and meditation by the heard and conscience.
As I engrossed myself in view and thought, I found
that the poor creature had died of thirst beside
a stream of water, and of hunger in the midst of
a rich field, cradle of life; like a rich man locked
inside his iron safe, perishing from hunger amid
heaps of gold.

Before my eyes I saw the cage turned suddenly into
a human skeleton, and the dead bird into a man's
heart which was bleeding from a deep wound that
looked like the lips of a sorrowing woman.
A voice came from that wound saying, "I am the human
heart, prisoner of substance and victim of earthly laws. "In God's field of Beauty, at the edge of the stream
of life, I was imprisoned in the cage of laws made by man.
"In the center of beautiful Creation I died neglected because
I was kept from enjoying the freedom of God's bounty.

"Everything of beauty that awakens my love and desire is
a disgrace, according to man's conceptions; everything
of goodness that I crave is but naught, according to his judgment. "I am the lost human heart, imprisoned in the foul dungeon
of man's dictates, tied with chains of earthly authority,
dead and forgotten by laughing humanity whose tongue is
tied and whose eyes are empty of visible tears.

All these words I heard, and I saw them emerging with
a stream of ever thinning blood from that wounded heart.
More was said, but my misted eyes and crying should prevented
further sight or hearing.

The VisionKhalil Gibran

When night fell and slumber draped its mantle over
the face of the earth, I left my bed and walked
toward the sea, saying to myself, “The sea sleeps not.
And in the wakefulness of the sea is a balm for
the spirit that does not rest.

I arrived at the shore, where the mists had rolled
down from the mountain peaks and enveloped that locale
the way a grey veil cloaks the face of a beautiful girl. I stood staring at the armies of waves, listening to
their jubilant shouts, contemplating the eternal,
clandestine powers that lay behind them—the powers
that race with storms, rage alongside volcanoes,
smile with the mouths of roses, and lilt with brooks.

After a little while I looked around to find three
apparitions sitting on a nearby boulder, the mists
concealing yet not concealing them. I walked slowly
toward them, as if some force in their being attracted
me and subdued my will.When I had come within a few footsteps of them, I halted
and stood staring at them fixedly, as though sorcery
pervaded that place, blunting my determination and
awakening the imagination latent in my spirit.

At that very moment one of the three arose and, in
a voice that seemed to issue from the depths of the sea,
he said, “Life without love is like a tree without
blossoms or fruit. Love without beauty is like flowers
without fragrance and fruit without seeds.... Life, love,
and beauty—three persons in one substance, independent,
absolute, accepting no change or separation.
Having spoken these words, he sat down again in the same place.The second phantom stood and, in a voice like the roar
of floodwaters, he said, “Life without rebellion is
like the seasons without spring. Rebellion without truth
is like spring in a bleak, arid desert.... Life, rebellion,
and truth—three persons in one substance, accepting no
separation or alteration.

The third specter now gained his feet and, in a voice
like a thunderclap, he said, “Life without liberty is
like a body without spirit. Liberty without thought
is like a disturbed spirit.... Life, liberty, and
thought—three persons in one substance, eternal,
never-ending, and unceasing.All three apparitions now arose, and with horrifying
voices they said unanimously, “ Love and what generates
it. Rebellion and what creates it. Liberty and what
nourishes it. Three manifestations of God .
And God is the conscience of the rational world.

A silence fell then, replete with the rustling of unseen
wings and the trembling of ethereal bodies.
I closed my eyes, listening to the echo of the words
I had heard. When I opened them and looked again,
I saw only the sea, wrapped in a shroud of mist.
I drew near to the boulder where the three apparitions
had been sitting, and descried only a column of incense
rising into the sky.

About Me

I think that meditative and inspiring thoughts and words have the power to start a fire in a person's life. It can alter the way we see ourselves. It can change the way we see the world.
It dares us to break free from the safe strategies of the cautious mind; it calls to us, like the wild geese, as Mary Oliver would say, from an open sky. It is a magical art, and always has been -- a making of language spells designed to open our eyes, open our doors and welcome us into a bigger world, one of possibilities we may never have dared to dream of.
I’ve found that the best way to reconnect with how beautiful life can be is to give something away. It doesn’t have to be anything material. It can be a compliment, a smile, or a positive intention or thought for someone else. Sometimes the greatest gift you can give is sincerely giving your presence.
symphonyforlove@gmail.com

This is my symphony

To live content with small means;
to seek elegance rather than luxury,
and refinement rather than fashion;
to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not, rich;
to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages,with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently,
await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual,
unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common--this is my symphony.WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING.

The language of Beauty

It’s amazing to me how when I stop
the incessant mental chatter, and
actually just see things, I am
blown away by how beautiful they are.
The trees swaying, the leaves blowing
around on the ground, the waves
crashing on the shore. The simplest
of things have the most profound beauty.

My task which I am trying to achieve is,by
the power of the written word, to make you
hear, to make you feel — it is, before all,
to make you see. That — and no more, and
it is everything.
If I succeed, you shall find there according
to your deserts: encouragement, consolation,
fear, charm — all you demand; and, perhaps,
also that glimpse of truth for which you
have forgotten to ask.Joseph Conrad

Poetry reveals to us the loveliness of nature,
brings back the freshness of youthful feelings,
reviews the relish of simple pleasures, keeps
unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the springtime
of our being, refines youthful love, strengthens our
interest in human mature, by vivid delineations of
its tenderest and softest feelings, and through
the brightness of its prophetic visions, helps
faith to lay hold on the future life. William Ellery Channing

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day. Emily Dickinson

Better than a thousand
Hollow words
Is one word that brings peace.
Better than a thousand
Hollow verses
Is one verse that brings peace.

Better than a hundred
Hollow lines
Is one line of the law, Bringing peace.
It is better to conquer yourself
Than to win a thousand battles;
Then the victory is yours.Buddha

I have my own particular sorrows, loves, delights;
and you have yours.

But sorrow, gladness, yearning, hope, love,
belong to all of us, in all times and in all places.

Music is the only means whereby we feel these emotions
in their universality.H. A. Overstreet

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth,
where moth and rust consume and where thieves
break in and steal, but lay up for yourself
treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust
consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal.
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.Jesus

Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were
a bird I would fly about the earth seeking
the successive autumns.George Eliot

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He who would learn to fly one day
must first learn to stand and walk
and run and climb and dance;
one cannot fly into flying.Friedrich Nietzsche